


Little Secrets

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, Acronyms galore!, Cheating on Lola?, Coupledom, F/M, Fake Flirting, Fake Outs, Feels, Flirting, Foreign Language, Gen, Hydra, Kissing, Lola - Freeform, Missions, No I Don't Like Ward, Paste Pot Pete, Paste Pot Pete Jr, Resolution, Skye Playing Ward Like A Fiddle, Ultron - Freeform, Undercover, glamour, hammer - Freeform, happy endings, more happy endings, pocket universes, resolutions, tony stark - Freeform, yes they did, yup that's what happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 01:10:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1532033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This started out being my musings after the events of The Only Light In The Darkness and based on the promo for Nothing Personal, but then I wanted to keep writing them and make a joke about how they never actually get to go to Tahiti (the real one).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vertigo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye holds Ward at bay by telling a little secret.

Vertigo. 

That summed it up in a word. 

She tried to recall when this pervasive atmosphere of vertigo had settled over everything and everyone. Well, almost everyone. She still trusted Coulson. 

Believed him when he said they had to keep things between them. The idea of their teammates being in the dark hadn't been the problem. There was something niggling below the surface, she had felt it as well. They were being kept in the dark, and it had layers. The feeling that what was going on around them had begun to feel...orchestrated. But, she trusted him, was concerned for him, but not feeling like everything around her had stopped making sense.

That's what she felt like now. That's what she felt about the person next to her in the cockpit. Every moment since leaving Providence was a fight to push that fear back down in her stomach, the pins and needles edge of the idea that at any moment, he will kill. She knew what she had to do. She only hoped that Coulson was able to follow her lead. And then, try to stay alive in the meantime. She gave Ward the coordinates, and he set the controls as they retired to the common area. He asked to pour her a drink.

"Yes! Definitely," she said. In her mind, she was thinking just the opposite, he would be watching every little thing she did, she didn't want to risk any possible slip.

Ward smiled and got out two glasses, and then a flickering crossed his face. He put down the whiskey bottle and said, "Wait here."

Skye opened her mouth to reply, but Ward was bounding up the staircase towards Coulson's office. She took a deep breath and began scanning the room, thought to stand, but she ran out of time, he was quickly back down the stairs, a bottle in his hand.

Skye frowned. It was from Coulson's office. 

"15 Year Old Ben Nevis," said Ward proudly. "Can't go wrong with that."

"That's Coulson's," said Skye, annoyed. Good, that's exactly what she would say, even if Ward wasn't a cold-blooded killer and she even if she was now regretting refusing to perform in that play with the nuns, every year. And why was she thinking of this right now? "Put it back," she added with resolve.

The playfulness drained out of Ward's face for a moment. Just a moment. She saw it fall and then come right back up.

"I can't believe you'd actually steal his scotch!" said Skye, smiling, half-nagging, massaging the moment.

"This is our first solo mission together," he smiled charmingly, "I thought it called for a real celebration. Do you really think Coulson would mind, given the circumstances...?"

"Yes," she said loudly, and stood up. "But, I'm not really a scotch kinda girl. What else does he have up there?"

Ward smiled and took her hand, leading her up the stairs.

 

***

 

They were in his office. She thought it would make her feel better, but it just made her feel lost. Ward poured them a drink and she ran her fingers along the desktop. Looked at the file he had out, what he'd been looking at before they'd landed at Providence. It was her file. Her 084 file he'd been collecting and adding to for her. With its big fat Level 8 stamp on it. Stupid, so stupid, all of the secrets.

Ward handed her a glass. "Here's to us." They cheered. 

"Yep!" said Skye with a grin.

She took a sip and turned back towards the file, flipping through it, seeing if anything had been added.

"Now who's breaking protocol?" asked Ward. "Should you be reading that?"

"When the cat's away..." she started. 

Ward, put his arms around her, drew her towards him. "Exactly what I was thinking," he said. Skye smiled and held her drink between them, like if he pulled too hard, he'd make her spill it. She'd used this one before.

"Oh, you know me," she said, "When I get something in my head, I just have to have it." She turned her eyes back longingly towards the file and then looked at him with puppy eyes.

He sighed deeply as she threw him her most dazzling smile and circled around the desk and sat in Coulson's seat. Setting the drink down, she began flipping through the file, providing Ward with errant facts about herself as he acted interested. And she knew he was acting.

Coulson had added a very small detail to the file, which she knew was a reference to the drug in the Guest House. The way it was penned, in his own hand, something about that touched her. It was something they shared, somehow defining, she felt, not sure why. And she ran her finger over the flourish of the "S" in her name.

"When we open up the hard drive," she threw out, knowing that would perk him up, "We can get information on that drug from the Guest House."

Ward stared at her, nodded approvingly, leaning towards her from the couch, wanting to hear more. She noted he was on his second drink already.

"And with HYDRA not in hiding anymore," Skye said, standing, and as she did, grabbing one of Coulson's wristwatches in passing and slipping it behind her back.

"Nope, they sure aren't," he agreed.

"I bet the Guest House was a HYDRA facility," she said, the wheels turning as she walked towards Ward, and then sat down on his lap, putting her arms around his neck, as he positioned his body to accommodate her, thrown off, while she switched the watch from one hand to another, and as he wrested his arms around her waist, she casually dropped the watch into the side of her boot, adding, "And all we have to do is find one HYDRA goon, one with higher level access. I can get into their system and get every bit of info on that facility."

"Sounds like a plan," said Ward, impressed. He leaned in, like he had at Providence. She turned her head and looked around the room.

"Coulson would like that," she whispered.

Ward frowned.

"What is it with you two?" he asked. She caught the bitterness in it. "You know what I think," he continued, sweeping a piece of hair off her shoulder, "I think we shouldn't keep any more secrets from each other."

Skye swallowed. Not sure what he wanted. "Okay." 

"Do you and Agent Coulson have a lot of secrets?" he asked, his eyes looking a bit dead behind themselves, she thought.

She ran a hand over his hair, he flinched a little. She was horrified by him, what she felt in him, how it made her feel.

"Um, well..." She wasn't sure where to go with this. Push his buttons to make whatever weird game he was playing end and just cut to the chase, or was it safer to keep stringing him along, when she knew already what he was after? What way would give her the most room to breathe?

"Something happened," she said, getting up off Ward's lap and walking back over to the desk, retrieving her drink. She suddenly wanted it.

He followed her, standing close to her, his voice strained, penetrating. "What...?"

"You remember when I found him, at that Centipede location, when they had been torturing him?"

"Yes..." Ward said, his eyebrows furrowing.

"He was saying, over and over again, that he wanted to die," her eyes began filling with tears again, just thinking about it. "I found him like that, and," she turned it up a bit, "I've never seen him like that before. It terrified me, Ward."

Ward looked relieved and went to hug her, comforting.

Yes, this was the way he liked her, she realized. Lost, needing him to hold her hand and pull her along, make it all okay, save the day. It made something very angry well up in the pit of her stomach.

"So," she said, sniffing away tears, and looking right up into his eyes, "I kissed him. I felt sorry for him. I couldn't help myself."

"What?" Ward started, nervous chuckling trailing off.

"He was delirious," Skye said. "And, I didn't want him to die, so I kissed him, and...he kept saying my name, over and over again. That's what started the whole thing."

Ward's jaw had dropped open. He quickly shut it, and turned away. Then back towards her, animatedly, "Are you serious?!"

"When Garrett told Coulson he was just a broken man, I'm not sure he realized just how right he was."

Ward went and sat on the couch, his eyes growing wide. "Coulson? I mean, Coulson?!!! You're half his age."

"Thanks," she said bitterly. "And May was how much older than you again?"

"Touche," offered Ward. "So, what, are you in love with the old man?" He said it mockingly, got up and crossed his arms before her. That was the real Ward, his background beginning to come out around the edges of his speech. All down to business, because she'd ruined his image of the good girl. 

"No," Skye lied. Well, it kind of was. She loved Coulson. To what degree, she wasn't sure. But right now her mind was fighting off a flood of touches, kind words, smiling eyes, knowing eyes, yeah. She probably definitely was. That's who she wished she was with right now. That's who she wanted to figure out the future with.

"But, it was," she shook her head and flustered, "IS a secret."

"Sheesh...that old dog," said Ward, she could see something building up in him.

"Ward," she said bluntly, "When I said I wanted to be with you, I meant it. And now you can see why I'm so, reluctant, I don't want this to be some messy thing where my S.O. is going to be looked at as taking advantage of me, or where we have to sneak around because others might find out..."

"You two were sneaking around?" Ward said, even more alarmed.

"It was just...kissing...," Skye huffed.

"Oh, he knew better," said Ward.

She was frowning at him with her arms crossed, looking every bit the petulant child she hoped he wanted her to be.

"Look, he said, touching her shoulder. "That should never have happened, I'm sorry."

"Promise you won't say anything?"

"I won't," said Ward.

 

***

 

The wind was howling from outside of the Bus. The sky was trying to suck them out through the ceiling doors of the interrogation room. Ward and Coulson, beaten, bloodied, bruised, stabbed, nearly shot and pretty much fed up at this point, were hanging onto the table to preserve whatever was left of their lives.

"I should've know better about Garrett," yelled Ward. "If I survive this, I'm going to kill him!!"

"That's all you can think about?!" Coulson was hoping Skye had been able to rework the watch and use it to free Mike from lockdown in the Medbay. Then Mike could take out Garrett, take control of the Bus and maybe shut the damn outer doors, so he could finish this with Ward. And he was going to finish it.

"You're going to pay for what you did to Skye!" Coulson stared him down, yelling over the din.

"Whaat?!!" Ward yelled, and began edging his hands around the table to where Coulson was. 

Coulson couldn't believe this pompous ass. Really?!!

Ward grabbed Coulson's tie with his free hand and began attempting to choke him, their legs splaying out towards the sky above as Coulson swung his knee around and made contact with Ward's head. He knew Ward would have anticipated it, he knew Ward wouldn't care. But, it sure felt good to hear the contact. 

Coulson almost lost one hand on the table.

"You're old enough to be her father...!"

Coulson made a face, punched Ward in the mouth. Hard. He let go of the tie.

"Yeah, I know," Ward spat, accusingly, "I KNOW!"

Coulson had nothing.

"Know what?!!"

 

***

 

Guess Garrett had a death wish, mused Coulson. Mike had really felt little need to use restraint when Garrett tried to fight back with lethal force and had snapped his neck when he'd taken back the plane. Skye had managed to get the doors of the interrogation room closed, and with gravity on his side again, Coulson used the Nite Nite tech Fitz had developed in Providence to take Ward out. He wished Skye could've seen it, Ward's smug ass just shaking his head as Coulson pulled a pen out of his pocket, and then dropped him like a fly. "It looks more bureaucratic," Fitz had said. 

Coulson thought it would be better this way. Certainly safer, but also that Skye wouldn't have to listen to his voice or have his eyes on her anymore. He left him in the interrogation room and thanked Mike, letting him stay in the pilot's seat. Wasn't sure if he was grateful or just really out of options at this point, but he didn't want Mike roaming the Bus, either.

Skye was standing in the common room, looking shaken and awfully quiet. 

"Well done, Agent," Coulson said to her with a small smile.

She ran to him and hugged him tightly, tears starting to form. "I thought Ward would kill you."

"I know," he replied, running a hand over her head. "He had pretty good chances. But, look at you," he said with a smile, "We're alive. We've got Mike back. You kept HYDRA from getting the hard drive..."

"And," she added, "I'm going to use Garrett's creds to access HYDRA. I'm going to find out about the Guest House, what they did to us," she said, looking deadly serious at Coulson.

"We are," he added.

Skye fidgeted a bit and looked at him. "We drank some of your scotch," she confessed. "The good stuff."

Okay. Confessions it was. He studied her, knew she could tell he was searching for words. She'd seen him do this before.

"Are you okay?" he finally asked. "I mean, did..."

"No."

"Good." He didn't want to have to think about wishing Ward was really, really dead for the rest of his life. Being HYDRA was enough.

"Can we talk upstairs?" he asked her. For some reason, having this discussion didn't feel right out in the open, even though there was no one else there to hear. It felt private.

She nodded and followed him up the stairs, as she crossed the threshold, he shut the door behind them. 

It was her turn. "I told him something, though," she began. "Since he is alive and we are going to turn him in, right?"

"Yes, that's the plan," Coulson replied, a hint of curiosity in his tone.

"So, I had to make a choice," she said, sitting down on the couch. He waited a moment until she was settled and then sat down next to her. "Once I saw the opening, I knew I could either keep playing into his hands, or I could confuse him enough to keep him on his toes."

"An exploit," said Coulson.

Skye nodded. "He was such a creep, you know? The real side of him, wanted something, had, like, decided I was this *something*," she looked over at him, hoping he had understood. "He kept telling me, that I was *good* and he wasn't."

Coulson's face fell. "You are good, Skye." She locked eyes with him, before continuing.

"So, when I told him that you and I had been sneaking around...fooling around...it kind of freaked him out."

His eyes got very wide, he leaned back against the couch, chuckled a little bit, but not in a funny way, just a knowing one.

"That's what he was talking about in the interrogation room," Coulson recalled.

Skye's eyes got really big, she leaned towards him, her hand on his knee apologetically, he just looked down at it dubiously, she quickly removed it.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't think he'd say anything."

Coulson rubbed his forehead between his eyes. "Details."

Skye turned two shades of red. "Oh, c'mon, you're not going to make me..."

"Details. I'm going to have to file a report."

"Really? There is no more SHIELD, who exactly are you writing that report for, A.C.?" 

"It's just how it's done. So that people know..." he said raising his voice.

"Know what? What people? Whoever's going to guard Ward?" she said sarcastically and got up from the couch and began pacing. Went to his bar and began to pour herself some of his scotch.

"Hey!" he said with indignation.

"You want to know," she said, the light going on in her head. "You want to know, and you're afraid to admit it."

"Sometimes, people need to know things," he blurted out, standing. "So they can think about the ramifications and make corrections and...what the hell, Skye?!"

She couldn't help herself, she started laughing. Not just a little laugh, but it went huge pretty quick. She just stared at him, maybe it was her snapping, finally, from the tension and stress. She slid down to the floor, sitting, with her back against the wall, laughing tears down her face as he huffed and went over and took a glass and began to pour himself a drink.

"Omigosh," she said, finally breathing, "You look so cute when you freak out."

Coulson froze. Was trying to look in control, dignified, but she started laughing again. And then he started, "You've finally lost it," he said, sliding down next to her. "And you're going to take me with you."

Smiling dangerously over her glass, she asked, "Would that be so bad?"

He smirked back, took a deep breath. Let it out, loosened his tie, while she watched a series of emotions play out on his face.

"I think we're due for a vacation. I've always wanted to go to Tahiti. The real one," he said, looking over at her with his eyes.

"Make some new memories."

Skye raised her glass, and they toasted to the future.

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I am not a fan of Skyeward. I find his little "you are good and I am bad" super creepy. He is bad. In fact, he's awful. So unless he gets completely mindwiped and starts over fresh, I'm not into it. He works for secret Nazis, people!


	2. Fun. Done.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye and Coulson go on a mission that resulted in this going from A.U. to truly A.U.

Now.

 

Monte Carlo wasn't Tahiti, but it wasn't half bad. It was good times spending some of Baron Von Strucker's very, very dirty money. And what kind of bad guy name is BVS, anyway? And who still wears a monocle? But that's what happens when you get caught with your pants down by Stark Industries, with a little help from your friendly neighborhood hacker to freeze your sorry HYDRA assets.

These were the thoughts attending Skye as she descended the staircase of the Casino Monte Carlo. She wasn't expecting every day to be a James Bond day, but she would take 'em where she got 'em. She'd had her hair done in an actual salon, an hour long massage, a bubble bath in a tub that swallowed her whole... 

She just couldn't wait to stuff that microchip down her cleavage.

 

***

The afternoon before.

 

"This is a fun assignment," Skye said, with Coulson in tow, holding two shopping bags and really not selling the smile he was wearing. "Fun, fun, fun," she repeated.

She turned and stopped for a moment to look at him. "Just remember, this is not me. Nope, not at all..," she said, eyeing the Dolce & Gabbana store. She leaned over and patted his cheek patronizingly. "I have such an adorable and patient valet."

Coulson grinned with clenched teeth and followed her into the store.

Skye looked through several racks, the saleswomen eyed her from a distance, could probably tell she was American for certain and nouveau riche, possibly. 

This was not her style, but thankfully, she wasn't having to be herself. Throwing herself bodily into someone else's life for the next 48 hours was going to be wonderful.

It was just the thing. There, hanging on the end rack. Black, lace, cinched waist. She ran her hand over the fabric, "Sophia Loren, Marriage Italian-Style, 1964," she whispered. The saleswoman asked her if she'd like to try it on. "Yes!" she cheered/reigned it in.

Stepping out of the dressing room, she stood in front of the three way mirror, made a pouty face and piled her hair atop her head, turning towards Coulson.

"Mi può aiutare?" she asked, and turned around revealing the remaining bit of zipper at the back of the dress.

He was looking at the men's neck ties, and paused to look up at her. She could see the smile just at the corner of his mouth, but he let it come out through his eyes instead. She liked it when he did that. It took more effort. The tie went back on the table, and he walked towards her slowly.

Skye looked ahead in the mirror, saw him step behind her, felt the knuckle of his right hand lightly dust her back, his other hand resting on her hip to hold the dress in place, as his voice tickled the hairs on her neck with, "A chi dai il dito si prende anche il braccio."

Flustered, she shook his hands away, wanting the hot blush on her skin to vanish. "You know I don't speak Italian."

The saleswoman viewed Coulson coyly and then straightened as Skye turned toward her, "Beautiful!" she said, very excitedly in English, dosed with a heavy French accent.

Skye looked at Coulson reflected in the mirror, back over at the table, pretending to handle the tie, just as he had before.

"I'd like to wear it out," she said, and headed to the makeup counter.

 

***

 

A few minutes later.

Skye was enjoying the attention the dress was providing. Europeans were so free with their appreciations, unlike certain former SHIELD agents. The cat eyes, the hair pinned up, the heels with the open toes and the ankle straps. Even on the uneven stone street, which kind of gave her a little wiggle walk. Coulson carrying *all* her bags.

"Marriage Italian-Style?" Coulson questioned.

"Yes, Jeeves, or whatever your name is," she replied with a dismissive wave. "Sophia Loren is kind of perfect looking in that movie. Like her *life* is about being on vacation." She turned to him, "Sort of like mine right now. And do you know what I want?" she asked.

Coulson sighed, blinked. No idea. "I have no idea."

"Gelato," Skye said, nodding definitively.

"Gelato it is," he replied.

She put her arm through his as he switched all the bags to one side, a look of discomfort flickering across his face.

They walked that way for awhile, not saying anything. Skye thinking about whether this was really a fun adventure, or whether he was really just that miserable, or whether playing the part that well.

Stopping in front of the gelato shoppe, she looked at their reflection in the glass windows. They looked handsome together, he in his grey suit and she in her black dress. Sophia Loren and Marcello Mastroianni.

"All we need now is Lola," she said.

He opened the shoppe door without a word and they walked in.

 

***

 

Late afternoon before.

 

Coulson scanned the room to determine if anything had been changed or moved. They did a quick search for bugs, other eavesdropping trinkets. Came up empty. It was likely the host of this event had the whole property swept before they arrived.

"Glad the shopping portion of this day has ended," he said, dumping the bags on the floor of her suite, heading towards the door that connected their two rooms to check coms, get an update on their mark, and stopped when he saw a box wrapped on the side table. Glancing over his shoulder back at Skye with a frown he advanced on it. He bent down to listen, pushed at it with his pen...

"A.C., just open.the.box."

Surprise on his face, he turned to see Skye frowning at him, crossing her arms just as their eyes made contact. He realized he was wearing a very serious look. One he'd worn a lot lately.

Relaxing, he picked up the box and pulled the silver ribbon until it gave way, then lifted the lid.

"I've never seen someone open a box soooo slowly," Skye said impatiently.

His free hand dipped into the box, and out came a silvery satin tie. Plush, nice weight to it. The one he'd been eyeing earlier, before she did that thing that had ruined the rest of his day, that he was still trying to escape from.

"A gift for your valet?" he asked.

"Why not?" she said. "I figured if I look good, so should my employees. Besides," she said sauntering over to him. "You're not just my valet," she said, reaching out and beginning to unknot his tie, "You're my favorite valet."

This shouldn't happen, this was going too far. But, an indiscernible "Umm..." was all that came out.

She leaned in and whispered next to his ear, her lips brushing them as he tried not to squirm: "What did you say to me in Italian earlier?" 

He raised his eyebrows. Oh, so that's how it's going to be.

"What did *you* say to *me*?" he breathed back.

"I asked, 'Can you help me?'" she pulled back, the tie free, and slid it off his collar, letting it fall to the floor.

"I don't like my ties on the floor..." he started.

She took the new tie out of his hand. He let her, feeling their fingertips brush. A jolt. He's thinking this might be what finally kills him. Death by Skye.

She slid it around his neck, running a hand down his chest to flatten his shirt front.

"And you said...?" she blinked up at him, fluttering those eyes, looking heavier than usual with the makeup she never wore.

"I smell a sexual harassment lawsuit coming on?" he said with mock-innocence.

"Coulson!" She gasped and let go of the tie, completely undone that she'd had no effect on him whatsoever, "What did you say to me?" she asked, laughing. He just shook his head silently. "You're awful. You're an awful, awful man." She flopped down on his suite's couch and picked up her laptop from the desk nearby, kicking off her heels.

"Bring me some champagne, Jeeves," she ordered, while looking down at her screen. "And a cheeseburger. I'm serious!"

Coulson did as he was told.

 

***

 

Early evening. Before Now.

 

"Why do you keep ending up on my bed?" he asked her with exasperation, standing in the bathroom door. 

She wiggled her eyebrows at him, wrapped in her bathrobe and eating a french fry while reading the latest intel update they'd received from Fitzsimmons.

He knew exactly why (all the *stuff* was in his suite), but he felt like it was important to make the point that it was his bed and not hers. This mission was starting to feel like it was lacking some boundaries. He'd had those kinds of missions before, he knew how they ended. Skye was having too much fun. 

He wasn't going to let himself have too much fun.

"A chi dai il dito si prende anche il braccio," he hammered out, defeated.

Skye looked up at him, the play of a smile on her mouth.

He sighed, "It means, 'Give them a finger and they'll take the arm.'"

She shut her mouth and looked back down at her screen, continued typing. A flicker crossed her face, she bit her lower lip.

"What?" he plead, shrugging. "It's funny."

"Hmmm?" she said, looking up bemusedly, as if he had distracted her from something much too important.

She didn't really laugh at his jokes, did she? He used to have a girlfriend who laughed at his jokes. Then again, Audrey had never told him he was "cool"...

"Look, Skye," he said, coming to stand next to her. She sized him up, eyeing his bathrobe. Oh boy. That does it. "We have a job to do, so, the fake flirting? Enough."

She looked back down at her computer and began typing, "Mission update: New Orders. Table..the..fake...flirting...Operation: Fun. Done."

"Skye, I'm serious," he said pausing, then went around to look at her computer, "You didn't really type that into the log update, did you?"

Shutting the laptop, she got up and tucked it under her arm, marching to the doors that separated their rooms, she turned and gave him a salute, "Fun. Done." Then she passed through, shutting them behind her.

Coulson laid back on his bed, exhausted. A little worried he'd hurt her feelings. He heard the water running in her bathroom a few minutes later, and her singing a familiar song (he couldn't make out the tune). She would be okay.

He could be more delicate about it tomorrow. 

He just needed her off his bed.

 

***

Now. Again.

 

Her eyes slowly scanning the room, she turned the touch panel on her silver ring, just underneath her ring finger, activating the sensor. Fitz, that little genius. When she got near the frequency signature, the stone on the ring would turn cloudy, white, just like her beaded dress.

Grab the champagne flute, make eyes at the old dude with the girlfriend with her face stretched tight as a balloon. The mark was supposed to be youngish, early 30s, start-up-nerdy-rich-moneyed-cute. HYDRA liked to put the cuties front and center, she thought, not without a scornful memory or two. She would walk up to him, start to flirt, he would give her a location, she'd walk away like she was headed upstairs. After all, that's why she was there. 

She was thinking back to the earliest debriefing, Coulson had reiterated more than once that these women were not paid for sex. "But, that happens," Skye had said. 

"Yeah, sometimes it happens," Coulson had replied, looking distracted. 

"When these men want sex," May had said, looking at her deadpan, "They get professionals. This event is about looking respectable to the world at large. It's a major communications trade show and conference, but it's got a lot of pull with HYDRA. They invite their families and girlfriends and use that as cover."

So, here she was, looking attractive and respectable. Regular "girl next door" to HYDRA. This sweet guy, they were going to get him out, because he felt bad about letting the tech get into the wrong hands. Okay, really, she had been cyberstalking him and making him feel awful about the whole thing, so this is where the rubber had hit the road. They figured he'd be most comfortable dealing with her since they'd spent a lot of time chatting online.

And there he was.

"Hello, Mr. Petruski," she said, sidling up to him. He was average height, skinny, maybe a cyclist, she wondered. Fit right in here in his sweater vest and tie. 

"Petruski, Jr., actually. But you can call me Pete."

"I know who you are," Skye cut him off, quickly eyeing him over. Omigosh, he looked like a buddy of Miles. Not the time for that. Recall...recall...Not remembering... "You and I are going to have a drink," she continued, "And look like we've known each other all our lives, and then we're going for a walk." 

She grinned and laughed and put her hand on his shoulder, leaned in.

"Hey, you're perfect for this," he said with a chuckle. Flustering. "Wow. I...do you know Miles Lydon?"

Hackers sure do cover their tracks. She had researched this guy up and down. Skye swallowed. Was this guy what they thought he was?

"Yes, I do," she answered, soberly. "I used to be Rising Tide."

He blanched. "Those guys, I mean, that leaked info about Ian Quinn..."

She leaned in and kissed him. And noticed her ring went white. Dude! He was wearing the chip. Idiot! That was not the plan. He didn't trust them at all, and now she'd have to sneak him out, or do whatever, instead of the plan.

"I'm working for Tony Stark," she said confidently, taking a deep breath. "He almost died to save New York. And, like, the whole planet."

Pete looked at her and slowly nodded. "My dad, he was tied up with SHIELD for awhile. During the 90s. I don't see him much, well, never, really."

She listened, noting the very large men triangulating. They were being watched and cornered.

"This is a good time for us to get some fresh air, Pete," she said, tugging at his arm. They'd had a little disagreement, now they wanted to work it out privately...keep your plastic happy face on!

Heading towards one of the balcony exits, she was recalling the schematics she'd seen from earlier that day. It was so much nicer knowing the depth of the pool before you jumped.

The men approached, one of them definitely had a version of the nite nite tech. HYDRA dirtbags! Why did her HYDRA insults sound like a Howling Commando these days?

She turned to Pete and asked, "How do you feel about a little dip?"

 

***

Aftermath

 

Coulson listened to Pete talk. A lot.

Actually, Coulson had put his father in custody before. So, there was that.

They liked to make fun of him over at SHIELD. Or maybe they'd been HYDRA laughing. Whatever, he was done with all of that, since it turned out that "Paste Pot Pete" had been right and the good guys and the bad guys were one and the same. Petruski, Sr. had stayed on the fringes, because he trusted no one. But he was just broken enough and just desperate enough. Coulson thought about all the people they'd put in the Fridge. People he'd helped put there. How many of them had been subjected to what Pete's father had feared?

While Pete told his story, Coulson saw Skye, just on the periphery, sitting on his couch, listening, but with that look on her face. Operation: Fun. Was. Done. Indeed. The same look on her face when he'd first met her, when she was listening intently to make sure that somebody, besides her, wanted to make this right. He was okay with that. More than okay, really.

He gave Pete a spot on the Bus, had to figure out where to take him. Coulson didn't want to release him into the 'wild' with HYDRA around, but wasn't sure what to do with him. He'd developed that microchip, and it was very simple, but very useful. Embedded processing solution, with an innovative user interface. Just imagine your smartphone sending you subliminal messages and kill orders. On the other hand, it could just read your mood and tell you to "Have a Nice Day."

"His dad's known as the 'Trapster'," Coulson explained to Skye, when Pete had left. "He's been in and out of SHIELD facilities for most of his adult life. Builds devices for petty criminals and the occasional HYDRA operative."

"Or SHIELD operative?" she noted. "I've heard of him, actually," she said, seeming impressed with herself. "He built a couple of toys for The Rising Tide. He has a total meltdown for some reason if you say 'Paste-Pot-Pete', but I don't know why."

"Yeah," Coulson replied. "That's what they call him at the Academy."

"Pete, Jr. knew Miles," she confessed. "He knew me. He could have had a record and then scrubbed it." She nodded at Coulson seriously when his brow furrowed. "In fact, I think it's pretty likely. HYDRA probably approached him and set him up in the private sector, played on his stuff with his dad."

Coulson closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose. They had no way of knowing. None, whatsoever. But, maybe that wasn't what mattered. After all, he'd had a second chance himself. Maybe that's what this was about. This way of starting over again.

"Now," Skye said, getting up. "If you'll excuse me, I'd love to change out of this wet dress."

Coulson looked up quickly, "Just a moment."

"What?" she said, looking exhausted.

He put up a finger and then walked over to the record player in his office. Turned the switch, set the arm. The lilting music began drifting across his office.

"What are you doing...?" she asked, bewildered.

He stepped into the center of the floor put his hand out. "Can't let your marvelous spy adventure end this way. Vuoi ballare?"

Skye raised an eyebrow. "Wait. You're asking me to dance?" She narrowed her eyes, "Am I dancing with my valet, or..."

"Partner," he answered. "I mean, we we're working as partners."

Skye stepped forward and took his hand, began moving with him, felt her dress begin to soak into his shirt and pants when he leaned in pressing himself more closely.

"Sorry, sir, I'm all wet," she said, looking away, feeling suddenly out of her depth. Or under a microscope. 

He gave her a confident twirl with the music, was rewarded with a twinkling laugh. Pulled her back to him, holding her from behind, swaying. Skye let herself sink  
into him. His sigh was heavy, worth interpreting.

"Phil," she breathed. She wasn't used to using his first name, but somehow felt like she had to, being this close to him, feeling his heart thumping into her back. "You said we'd go to Tahiti."

"And so I did," he said.

"This was *not* Tahiti," she said, connecting with his eyes when he spun her away from him, pulling her towards him with both arms until she'd been thrown against his chest, his hands settling on her waist.

"Nope," he said, his voice low. "Monte Carlo, and you made me shop. A lot."

The music had slowed down again. She might do this forever, if she had to. "I had to kiss Petruski, you know," she said, leaning her cheek next to his.

"Oh, I *know*," he started. 

She slid one of her hands from his chest, back into his hand, "Necessary," she said innocently.

"What a waste of a perfectly good kiss," he smiled.

And leaning down, he kissed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started to realized that Phil and Skye remind me a lot of my favorite couples of yore, like Steed and Emma Peel from The Avengers, or Nick and Nora Charles from The Thin Man. What this world needs is more good 'ol fashioned flirting!
> 
> I put the Italian translations in the text.
> 
> Paste Pot Pete aka The Trapster is a beloved Marvel villain who gets referenced every few years, it's kind of a fanboy in-joke at this point.


	3. It's A Magical Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye and Coulson go on one more mission for Tony.

Coulson was behind the wheel and Skye was sitting next to him, wind blowing her hair all over. She was wearing his sunglasses, leaning back into Lola.

This was the habit now, she'd lean over and turn the radio on. Tune through a few channels, then pick a song, usually a pop song, or some classic rock, and then start dropping the word randomly throughout the lyrics.

Tahiti.

It was like their code now. It meant, she had something to get off of her chest, something that was nagging at her, and she wanted him to both know it, but also help her process it.

Because, they'd still never been to Tahiti. And he had promised.

"Take me down to Paradise City, where the grass is green and the girls are pretty, oh won't you to please take me...to Tahiti," she crooned.

Station switched. The corner of Coulson's mouth caught. She'd do this a few more times, he'd wait. 

"Let me be your ruler, you can call me Tahiti, and baby I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule..."

Next. 

"But you didn't have to cut me off," Skye wailed, "Make out like Tahi...."

Phil leaned over and turned the radio off. "I draw the line at Gotye." He said, looking over at her sharply. "No more Gotye. It just needs to go away. For a long time." 

"You promised," she said after a silence. Lifting the glasses and squinting from the day glow a bit, letting them rest atop her head.

"Yes, I did," he confirmed. "Tony just asked us to do this one little thing, and then..."

"There's always that one little thing," she remarked. "And it's never just one little thing," she said, turning her body towards him in the seat. Hunkering down for the long haul, Coulson thought.

"We just go into H.A.M.M.E.R., make visual confirmation, take a few discreet shots, and we're gone." he reminded her.

"Did it ever occur to you," she began, "That you're doing the exact same thing you did before?" She felt like it was time. They had enough distance from it now.

"What's that," he said, his brow furrowing. 

"Letting someone else call the shots."

 

***

The Day Before

 

"I'm going to go off the grid after this one. For awhile. I'll be in touch."

Coulson watched Tony in his workshop, piecing together a new Iron Man suit. It was looking pretty good. He stared with jealously at Tony's collection of vintage autos just beyond. He walked over to the Shelby Cobra, ran his hands over the hood. "Forgive me, Lola, it didn't mean a thing," he whispered under his breath.

"Hey, how did you like those modifications I gave your girl?" Tony asked.

"Oh," Phil started, "You know, when she gets her hands on a new piece of technology, it's like everything else becomes invisible."

"Uh, I meant Lola, Phil," Tony said, smiling knowingly. "But, hey! I'm glad Skye likes the U.L.T.R.O.N. interface. Have you actually tested it out? Because, you should *really* test it out."

"Direct access to Jarvis and Stark Industries' mainframe? Yes, about a thousand times," he huffed.

"You sound like a neglected man." Tony stopped working and went over to Phil. "And does anyone use that word anymore? 'Mainframe'? You're so old fashioned. Anyway, you realize you can operate virtually anywhere now, right? That last bit, that last crazy, Earth-shattering awesome bit," he said, shaking Phil by the shoulders for emphasis. "Came from a professor named Richards."

He spread his hands out and pulled up the schematics, the test results, letting Coulson look it over. "It's a 'pocket universe'," said Tony in awe.

"Yeah, that sounds totally dangerous," Coulson said dismissively. 

"I set Skye up with equipment, weapons, we're moving it all over today," Tony said. "You just open that sucker up, and bam...instant base of operations."

"Sounds great," Coulson said sarcastically.

Tony looked a little hurt he didn't seem more grateful. Or impressed. Coulson.

"Unified Life Tracking Remote Oversight Network," he said. "All it does, is let us know what people are where. Absolutely NO weaponized functions..."

Coulson just shook his head, he couldn't believe Stark. He was as delusional as Fury. "Have you looked around, Tony?" he said. Pointing at the Iron Man armor he was building, exasperated. "Your whole life is weaponized." 

Tony looked like he was just considering this for the first time. He was, wasn't he.

"Is this thing tied into Jarvis, into your armor, connected to everything?" Coulson said, grilling him.

"Well, yes," Tony replied.

"So, you've turned over world-monitoring functions to an A.I. with access to all your advanced weaponry, and now, it's equipped to see everyone, everywhere, all the time. Wow, you're a genius." Coulson couldn't stop shaking his head.

"Please stop shaking your head," Tony said. "This is starting to feel like a conversation with my dad."

"You know, it's not a matter of *if* this gets in the enemy hands, but *when*." He was beyond frustrated. Truthfully, he felt betrayed. And trapped. This was just like Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D. all over again.

Coulson narrowed his eyes at Tony, frowned, he had a splitting headache. "Please tell me you're not just handing these things out like candy, are you?"

Tony looked at Coulson deadly serious. "No, *Phil*, I'm not. In fact, I gave one to you and Skye because I want someone on the outside to keep watch over it. Which brings me to why I asked you here today."

Tony pulled up the logo in front of Coulson. It read: H.A.M.M.E.R.

Yay, more acronyms. 

 

****

Today

 

"My research assistant," he said to the guard outside of the lab.

"You weren't supposed to arrive until Friday," the man said, looking at the schedule.

"They've moved the project timeline up," she said, pushing the glasses up the bridge of her nose. "And they're staggering the schedule so that there are no more than two of us here at any one time."

"I wasn't informed of this," said the guard.

"Why would you be?" he answered, cocky. "You'd be the last one to know. But if you'd like to tell Mr. Osbourn about why his project delivery is off, I'd be happy to personally give him your name."

The guard was insulted. Frowned. Looked down again. Their credentials *had* checked out. 

"Okay, clear," he said with a huff.

They smiled and passed through the security doors.

No one else was in the lab. Just as Jarvis had indicated. In between shifts. They'd had Hawkeye monitoring all the movements in and out of the facility for a month. Tony thought it would be a good idea to send them in because, technically, they no longer existed.

"Someone's been busy," Skye said, looking at the pieces of armor in various stages of development. She touched the side of her glasses, "Radiometrics don't indicate anything alien," she said whispering next to Coulson.

"Nothing Tesseract powered, then." Coulson sighed. All of this trouble to rip off Iron Man's armor? Something wasn't making sense. Osborn wasn't a petty criminal. He was moneyed up. He had no past with Stark or any of the Avengers. Why was he building an Iron Man army? For whom?

Skye sat down at the panel, used her card access, began typing. She touched her hands to her glasses, pretending to push them up, photoing the schematics on the screen.

Coulson walked around the room, pretended to pick up a few tools, inspect the armor.

Suddenly, alarm lights came on.

"We've been made," said Coulson. "Let's go."

She kept typing at the computer. "Now, Skye," he went and grabbed her, pulling the Nite Nite gun out from under his labcoat, heading towards the security door.

"I just needed one more second," she said, annoyed. He reached into her coat, handed her the gun tucked away there.

"Focus on the task at hand."

The guard was gone. In fact, the whole place was empty.

Coulson and Skye exchanged a worried look. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. It was too quiet.

"Get back into the lab, run!" he yelled.

They heard the engines roaring overhead as the corridor behind them exploded in a fireball.

The doors wouldn't last, they wouldn't last. He'd never take her to Tahiti. Dammit.

Skye turned back towards him, grabbed his hand, pulled him after her.

And jumped.

 

***

He woke to a strange light peering through the darkness. 

Was he dead?

He turned and looked around into the blackness. Oh, there was Lola.

Maybe he was dead.

"Finally," she said from behind him.

He turned and saw Skye looking over at him, her arms folded. Changed back into her regular clothes. There were a bunch of bags piled nearby.

"What just happened?" he asked her.

"Welcome to the pocket dimension," she said.

"Huh."

"I'd never used it like that," she said soberly. "When we arrived, your momentum carried your head right into this table. Blacked right out."

He touched his hand to his head. Ouch.

"Isn't that handy?" Coulson said, sitting up on the table, looking around.

It just looked like a cave. Had a rock floor, a pendant light hanging above a table. There was Lola. A monitor station. Some serious weaponry on racks. 

Some weaponry he recognized. Stuff they'd stolen back from HYDRA and given to Stark for safekeeping.

He was starting to get it.

"Did you analyze the data, send it over to Stark?" he asked her, getting back in mission mode.

"Not so fast, Race McAutospy, press pause." She walked over to him, touched his head. "That was a little close, even for us."

"I know, we keep meeting like this," he said, trying a bit of levity.

"It's not funny, Phil," she said.

He slid off the table and put a hand on her shoulder.

"What are all the bags for, Skye?" he asked. But he already knew.

"I'm not cool with almost dying this much. We've talked about this before, this is why I've been pressing about Tahiti," she said, exhaustion in her voice. "It's been nonstop since HYDRA, Ward, and now we're into this new thing? With Stark?"

"I know," he said nodding.

"You *know* what Stark is like," she said, warning him.

"Yes, I do. And he's in way over his head, Skye," he stared at her. "Why do you think he hid this here, gave it to us?"

"Because he still thinks he's in control," she said. "Just like Fury did. And don't forget what Fury did to you."

"Tony is a lot of things," he acknowledged, "But he is not Fury."

"Phil, wakeup call. Whoever was behind that H.A.M.M.E.R. project didn't care if we saw, didn't care if they destroyed all of their own work. It meant nothing. We are insects here."

"I got that feeling, too," he agreed, troubled.

"I'm not doing this anymore," she said. "I'm with you, but not in this. Not this way."

 

***

Next Week

 

"Omigosh, I can't believe I'm about to say this," she groaned, taking a sip of the Pina Colada. "But, I kind of want a mission to happen."

Coulson smirked, turned to look over at her through his sunglasses.

"Toldya."

"Don't be so smug," she smiled, pushing the straw hat down over her face, leaning into the chair. "I was just scared, and I really, really needed a break."

"Too late, in the blood. From the moment I picked you up in Lola?" he asked. He had always kind of wondered when she'd really changed her mind about it all. He had his suspicions that it was when she went undercover at Ian Quinn's house. That's usually what hooked people. But he'd never really asked her. Now, they had all this time, and...

"From the moment I saw you in that suit," she smiled slyly. The sound of the beach, so wonderful. The waves washing everything from the last month away. Everything but this. And new beginnings. New memories.

"Flattering, but revisionist history, I think." he retorted.

"No, seriously," she said, pulling the hat off of her face. She took another sip of her drink, looked around at the beautiful day, the empty beach. The sky and the sea bluest blue. "There was just something trusting about your face. You know how there are those times where you go down the rabbit hole, and you forget where you ended up, and then suddenly there's a hand reaching down, and you take it. You're not sure why, but you do."

He knew the feeling. She was that feeling. He'd started this thing with no idea, only the vague idea that he felt different, that he wanted things to be different, somehow. And then he'd met someone who had said yes, in so many unspecified ways. You're right. Yes. Let's do this.

She flipped over and handed him the bottle of suntan lotion. "Speaking of hands."

"They're all yours," he said. Took the bottle, rubbed the contents in his hands, began massaging her back. Tried to not laugh at himself at the eerie reversal this image brought to his mind. As she sighed contentedly, he chuckled.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said, resisting to the urge to say, "It's a magical place." Because, kind of not funny. And he didn't want to ruin the moment, but he did feel the Universe was laughing at him a bit.

"AND, you could have clued me in as to why Tahiti was such a big deal to you in the first place."

"I didn't want to ruin the surprise. I wanted it to be...perfect."

"Yeah, that really seems to work out for you," she said. "You should just try living a little. Letting go."

"I *am* working on that," he said, reaching for her, "Right," pulling her bikini-clad body onto his lap, into his chair, "Now."

"And how does that feel, Mr. Coulson?" she asked breezily.

"It feels fantastic, Mrs. Coulson."


End file.
